Not wishing to tread on anyone else's toes I thought it could be a good idea to have a "Best of 2007" sketch competition - totally separate to the regular competitions.
Just select your own favourite sketch you've posted this year and at the end of the week we'll start voting. So you've got until Friday 4th at midnight to repost it here.
I'll think of some suitable prize.
OK - I'll get the ball rolling.
No comments - just entries - then voting from Saturday onwards.
BRITISH JUSTICE 2008
JUDGE ; Now then Mr Johnson. You are accused of reporting a robbery. How do you plead?
MR JOHNSON : I found Mr Briggs in my premises with a bag of my possesions.
JUDGE : Just answer the question. How do you plead?
MR JOHNSON : Not guilty of course.
JUDGE : Prosecuting counsel You can proceed.
PROSECUTER : Now then Mr Johnson. Can you takeme through your account of the evening of April 18th.
MR JOHNSON : Mr Briggs broke into my premises by smashing a window.
PROSECUTER : What did you expect him to do? You'd locked all the doors.
MR JOHNSON : This is ridiculous.
JUDGE : I must warn you Mr Johnson that another outburst like that and I will charge you with comtempt of court. You may proceed Mr Prosecuting Counsel.
PROSECUTER : Thank you m'lud. And did you Mr Johnson then arrive home unexpectedly?
MR JOHNSON : That is correct.
PROSECUTER : Don't you think that was a little unreasonable?
MR JOHNSON : UNREASONABLE!
JUDGE (BANGING HIS GAVEL) : Order, order. I've warned you once Mr Johnson. Next time I will carry out my threat. Carry on.
PROSECUTER : And then you proceeded to prevent Mr Briggs from leaving your premises.
MR JOHNSON : Wouldn't you?
JUDGE : Just answer the question Mr Johnson.
MR JOHNSON : Yes - that is correct.
PROSECUTER : And you then hit Mr Briggs with an umbrella. This while Mr Briggs was just trying to carry out his chosen occupation.
MR JOHNSON : But he pushed me over and ran away.
PROSECUTER : And to cap it all you then proceeded to ring the police to report the incident.
MR JOHNSON : That is correct.
PROSECUTER : Don't you think the police have enough to occupy their time? They have an abundance of paperwork to complete. You really shouldn't be wasting their time.
JUDGE : I agree. So is this a correct record of events Mr Johnson?
MR JOHNSON : Yes your honour.
JUDGE : Then I have no hesitation in finding you guilty as charged. I sentence you to 5 years hard labour. Case dismissed.
MR JOHNSON : But your honour ...
JUDGE : Take him away. Not what is the next case?
COURT OFFICER : A paedophile baby sitter who was beaten up by the father of the child.
JUDGE : I abhor violence. Let us proceed.
Butler Sketch
Int Lord Jerry’s Study – 10.45
Lord Jerry (60) is sat at a writing desk writing furiously. He stops writing and looks up.
Lord Jerry: (CALLS) WINSTON. WINSTON!
There are a few seconds of silence.
Lord Jerry: WINSTON! WIIIIIIIINNNNNSTTTTTOOONNNNN!
There are a few more seconds of silence; the doors to the study open and in walks Winston (40), the butler.
Lord Jerry: You impertinent little swine.
Winston: And a wonderful morning to you too, sir. Now, you called?
Lord Jerry: Yes, that's right, I called! I called about an aeon ago! What the devil took you so long to get here?
Winston: Well sir, I....
Lord Jerry: I'll tell YOU what it is. You're getting fat. Fat and lazy.
Winston: I really must disagree with you, sir. When you called me I was precisely 400 metres away. A distance I ran in only 10 seconds at a speed of (STOPS AND THINKS) 93.6 miles per hour.
Lord Jerry: HA! I've known quicker tortoi.
Winston: On the contrary, Sir. I believe I have just broken the land speed record for any organism on earth.
Lord Jerry: Poppycock. The fifteen legged Polynesian sprinting hare is much, much quicker.
Winston: Well, I don't mean to be rude sir, but I believe you may have just invented that creature. Although, I must say that biology was never one of my best subjects.
Lord Jerry: Are you calling me a liar?
Winston: Certainly not, sir. Just admiring your fervent and medically interesting imagination. Now, if we could move on. What exactly was it you were calling me for?
Lord Jerry: It's about that poacher.
Winston: Now sir, I've told you before - he's not a poacher.
Lord Jerry: He ruddy well is. I saw him this morning striding across the garden with a pair of rabbits in his hand.
Winston: They were a pair of dahlia's, sir.
Lord Jerry: Dahlia's?! Why the hell is he shooting dahlia’s. MY beautiful dahlia’s! Whatever will the gardener say?!
Winston: He IS the gardener, sir. He was replanting the dahlia’s as you requested.
Lord Jerry: Hmmmph! Well I still think that he’s an awful, awful little man and I want him shot. Go down to the gun cabinet will you, Winston. Sort him out.
Winston: I don't think I'd be very comfortable with doing that, sir.
Lord Jerry: Why ever not?
Winston: Well he is my father, sir.
Lord Jerry: And? AND?!
Winston: I have a sneaking suspicion, sir, that my mother would be terribly disappointed in me.
Lord Jerry stands up.
Lord Jerry: Just take a long look at yourself, man. You’re fat, lazy AND disloyal. I’ve got a good mind to chuck you out on your ear – penniless and without a roof over your head. You give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.
Winston: Well sir, I do have those photos of you having sex with your racehorse.
Lord Jerry: You blackmailing little scroat. You wouldn’t dare.
Winston: You want a bet, sir?
Lord Jerry: (Quietly) No.
Winston: And why’s that, sir?
Lord Jerry: (Defeated) Because last time I lost a bet with you I had to have sex with a horse. (Sighs) I’m buggered aren’t I?
Winston: Quite literally, sir. (GIVES A CHEEKY WINK)
THE END
© BEN RICKETTS 2007
I was pretty happy with the way this turned out...
BLOOH PEEHAH
1.INT – LOUNGE IN ANY HOUSE –DAY
A MIDDLE CLASS TYPE TEENAGE BOY IS PLAYING WITH AN AIRFIX MODEL AND WATCHING TV. BBC IDENTS COME ON THE SCREEN. THE TV PROGRAMME BECOMES THE MAIN ACTION
ANNOUNCER:
And now after their summer safari in Kenya, it’s time to welcome back an old favourite. Blue Peter… And you may notice one or two changes.
GRAMS______________________BLUE PETER MUSIC
THREE VERY ‘STREET’ PRESENTERS APPEAR AS THE STUDIO LIGHTS COME UP. BASEBALL CAPS, BLING AND ATTITUDE. TWO GIRLS ONE GUY.
GIRL 1:
Yo! And respek guys!
GIRL 2 AND GUY (TOGETHER)
Yeah! Proper wicked that we's back dudes an' that.
GIRL 1:
Well as you can see there have been some changes since we went away. Cos word was that we was mingin’ as a yoof show and half the target group, you know all the scumbags an’ hoodies wasn’t tunin’ in? So the bosses had a meetin’ an’ all and this is the noo style show.
GUY:
Yeah dat’s correk so we has made some neat changes.
GIRL 2:
Yeah wikid! First fing right? We got rid of Rex the old Blooh Peeha dog and it’s time to meet our noo pet ‘Ripper’
THE GUY HAS GONE OFF THE SET AND NOW RETURNS STRUGGLING WITH WHAT LOOKS LIKE A PITBULL TERRIER.
GUY:
Woah there Ripper! Well this is ‘Ripper’, got 'im off a geezer on a farm in Essex and he’s well bloomin’ hard like and that. I had him down the pub at lunchtime and he’s ripped a poodle to shreds. Blindin’
GIRL 1:
Brilliant! So that’s one change; Ripper, ahh! He’s lovely ain’t ‘e? And another is that we’re gonna set a few noo categories for winning our famous Blue Peter Badges.
GIRL 2:
Yeah! T’riffic. We got two new badges and here they are.
SHE HOLDS THEM UP TO THE CAMERA. LITTLE BURBERRY COLOURED SHIELDS WITH A SKULL AND CROSSBONES ON THEM.
GIRL 2:
This first one is for TWOCing and if there’s any posh kids still watching, that’s nicking somebody’s car wiffout asking them first. And don’t go finkin’ anybody can get one of these. Your mum or dad’s car don’t count! Right?
GIRL 1.
Bleedin' wusses!
GUY:
And the second one is our graffiti badge. Say, for defacing a wall, the side of some old gel’s aise or maybe drawing on a tube train or sumfink like that.
GIRL 1.
And now it's over to our main man who's gonna show you how to make some drugs out of the dregs of bottle of Harpic and some battery acid what's leaked out of your mum's boyfriend's car.
SUDDENLY THE SCREEN GOES BLANK THE BBC LOGO APPEARS.
ANNOUNCER:
Sorry we appear to be having some technical difficulties with Blue Peter so until we can sort them out here’s some music.
END
ADVERTISEMENT
Closing down. Everything must go.
Don't miss our New Year sale. 50% off all products/services.
Buy now, deadline the 4th Jan 2008.
Good savings to be had.
You owe it to family and friends.
Do it now!!!!
(No time wasters)
Digham, Digham & Digham Co. Ltd
Undertakers and coffin makers.
Jesus is nailed to his cross. His Mother Mary is looking up at him.
Jesus
Owwwww! Ouch
Mary
Can I get you a plaster for them cuts my son.
Jesus
I do not think a plaster will suffice my Mother.
Mary
How about some antibacterial spray?
You could get a nasty infection in those gashes. (Mary turns to the Roman Guard to Jesus’s right). Would you allow me to use that ladder to climb up on, so that I might spray my son’s wounds.
THE ROMAN NODS & MARY CLIMBS THE LADDER UNTIL SHE IS FACE TO FACE WITH HER SON. SHE PATS HIS HEAD WHICH CAUSES THE THORNS TO DIG IN. JESUS SQUEALS.
Mary
(Sprays the cuts causing a rush of severe pain to her son, then clasps his face in her hands) Oh my son. I have waited for this moment all my life.
Jesus
Thanks
Mary
I am so excited. Your long & painful death will bring about a revolution. I will be famous for all time as will you my son.
Jesus
Great.
THE HEAVENS OPEN ,RAIN PISSES DOWN & THERE IS A ROLL OF THUNDER
Jesus
This is just brill eeeeeee ant.
Mary
Ooooooh I am starting to get a little wet my son. I may have to pop back down & watch your death from the ground now. Chin up my son.(Pushes his chin up, causing his head to flick back & the thorns to dig in all the more. Jesus cries out in agony) Only another 17 hours to go my Son. It will be over in a jiffy. (Clicks her fingers)
(Mary descends the ladder, stopping to kiss her sons foot, accidently catching the nail in her sleeve as she does so causing her son to howl out)
Mary Cont
Jesus
Jesus
Yes my Mother
Mary
I was not calling out your name my son. It was merely a reaction to the stench from your feet.
Jesus
(Looks down at his mother) This revolution My Mother. What happens?
Mary
Oh my son it is just wonderful. People all over the world will use your name to start wars. There will be much blood shed in the name of Jesus Christ. (Mary clasps her hands together). My son, would you mind terribly if I was to totter back home now. It is an awfully wet night. Also that Carpenter who brought you up & I get to do the business tonight.(Starts to thrust) For the first time ever. Wahoooooooooooo!
Jesus
Oh Ok my mother, off you go. Don’t worry about me hanging here. You pop off & have a good night with the Carpenter. I will just dangle until My Father comes to get me.
Mary
I am not mad you know my son. Every thing I have told you is the truth. You are the son of an invisible being, whom created man & that lives in the sky. You are my son. You really are. (Waves) Toodle loo now My son.
Charley, good job you didn't call him Mohamed.
Well had the most success with this one so guess would be my 'best' although I prefer others I've written.
SCENE 1.
INT. BEDROOM. NIGHT.
A SMALL BOY (TIMMY) IS FAST ASLEEP, A LIGHT ENTERS THE ROOM AS THE DOOR OPENS AND DEATH ENTERS. HE APPROACHES A HAMSTER CAGE.
TIMMY (SUDDENLY AWAKE)
Who are you?
DEATH
I am the Grim Reaper.
TIMMY
Am I dead?
DEATH
No your quiet safe. I have come for your Hamster.
TIMMY
Mr Chuggles or Bilsworth?
DEATH HOLDS UP A PIECE OF PAPER
DEATH
It just says hamster.
TIMMY
What did he die of?
DEATH
I don't know, it doesn't actually say. I'm not really qualified I could arrange a post mortem if you want, I know people.
TIMMY
I don't believe in Death.
DEATH
What with all the evidence, in the news and what you read in the papers I assure you Death is very very real.
TIMMY
I mean as an Anthropomorphic being...
DEATH
Right...
AWKWARD SILENCE.
DEATH
Fancy a lollipop.
SCENE 2.
INT. HALLWAY. DAY.
"DEATH" EMERGES FROM TIMMYS BEDROOM, HE REMOVES HIS COWL TO REVEAL IT IS IN FACT A NORMAL PERSON, TIMMY'S DAD.
TIMMYS MUM (OFF)
How was he?
DEATH (TIMMY'S DAD)
Last year, he stopped believing in Father Christmas, January it was the Tooth Fairy and NOW he doesn't believe in DEATH as an anthroporphic being. I hate it when they start to grow up.
END
Precepts for Writers
By J J Roberwitz.
(Excerpts from prize winner, Eats, Shoots and gets Life)
Grammar Made Simple.
Placing your conjoiners before nouns, and even worse, after adverbs, render your prepositions invalid.
A very good book to read is; Andrew Lloyd Weavers, ‘English as a Language’. Which deals with this common problem, and other grammatical problems of course.
(One couldn’t sell a book with just two lines in it. I’m sure you would agree.)
Another major problem with amateur writers, and I don’t know why because it is so simple, is using inappropriate nouns, before, after, and even during, pro-nouns and adverbs, and ‘Vici Verdi. This can cause great confusion, for instance, if instead of ‘Barrow’ we inadvertently used the noun ‘Spade’, not many holes would get dug.
A bank robber with a cucumber instead of a gun would soon be grammatically bankrupt.
So there it is, just remember the basics, a conjoiner to a writer is similar to a mortise and tenon to a carpenter; the timber being the ad-verb, the saw being the noun, and NEVER the other way round.
I hope to have explained away any Grammar Gremlins.
You can’t go wrong using this simple method.
Other best seller by same author,
Grammar Made Difficult.
DEATH METAL IN THE AFTERNOON
EXT. DAY.A SUBURBAN CUL-DE-SAC.
A GOTH/DEATH METAL TEENAGE COUPLE ARE APPROACHING THE HOUSE OF THE BOY’S FATHER.
Girl:
So what’s your dad like?
Boy:
He’s like, weeeell square. Don’t ask him about music or anything.
Girl:
I bet he’ll be like reeeeeally shocked at the music we’re into
Boy:
Oh, totally.
HE OPENS THE DOOR. THEY GO IN AND DAD IS SITIING ON THE COUCH READING THE PAPER IN HIS SLIPPERS AND CARDIGAN.
Dad:
Hello, so you must be Rachel – pleased to meet you. Glad Steven’s got himself a fellow ‘heavy rocker’.
THE TEENAGERS GIGGLE.
Dad:
It’s all heavy rock, this gothic, dark stuff. You may think these bands are shocking but I’m unshockable. Go on, which bands do you like?
Girl:
Er, Christ Fist and Bleeding Corpse Cock, what else Steven?
Dad:
That’s just like Black Sabbath in my day -
Boy:
Er, Suicide Bummer, Kill The Old, Menstrual Gargle.
Dad:
Right. Let’s see if my new music can shock you!
Boy:
Your new music?
Dad:
I’m starting up my own band. It’s called Faeces for My Foetus. I’ll go and get changed.
THE TEENAGERS GIGGLE AND SIT CLOSE TOGETHER ON THE COUCH.
Boy:
Omygaaaahd, this is gonna be weeeell embarrassing.
CAPTION: 5 MINUTES LATER.
DAD COMES DOWNSTAIRS WITH A GUITAR AND AMP. HE IS DRESSED IN EXACTLY THE SAME CLOTHES BUT THEY HAVE BEEN CUT UP AND SPRAYED IN SILLY STRING. HE HAS SMEARED LIPSTICK ALL OVER HIS FACE AND PAINTED HIS NOSE BLUE. HE PLUGS IN THE GUITAR AND STARTS THRASHING IT, WITHOUT FORMING CHORDS. HE STARTS SINGING IN A SATANIC, GUTTURAL TONE:
Dad:
Can it be you fellatin’ satan?
Where’s my kids I goddam ate ‘em –
CUT TO THE KIDS LOOKING BEYOND DISTURBED AS HE THRASHES A MINOR POWER CHORD
Dad:
Fist Christ for a quid!
Bleeding anus
Your mum was a phlid
her rotting flesh would shame us..
DAD THEN REACHES DOWN THE BACK OF HIS TROUSERS. HE PULLS OUT SOME OF HIS OWN FAECES AND HURLS IT AT THE YOUNG COUPLE. HE STARTS HEADBUTTING A NEARBY BISCUIT TIN. CLOSE UP OF DAD CHOMPING WHOLE RAW EGGS. THE KIDS FLEE THE HOUSE. AND DAD CAN BE SEEN PRESSING HIS NOW BLOOD-SODDEN FACE AGAINST THE WINDOW, MAKING DEEP, INFERNAL SOUNDS. CUT TO THE TEENAGERS RUNNING UP THE CUL-DE-SAC AS A DISTANT SIREN WAILS.
FADE
INT. BEDROOM – NIGHT
THE BEDROOM IS YELLOW WALLPAPERED WITH A SINGLE BED IN THE MIDDLE. ANDY IS SAT IN THE BED DOING THE CROSSWORD IN THE NEWSPAPER. THERE IS A KNOCK AT THE DOOR.
ANDY
Come in.
HARRY POKES HIS HEAD AROUND THE DOOR.
HARRY
I’ve got it.
ANDY
What? 5 down? 6 letters. An artists first draft.
HARRY ENTERS THE ROOM, WEARING HIS PYJAMAS.
HARRY
No! An idea for our sketch show.
ANDY
You have got it! Sketch! Well done!
HARRY
No, you muppet! I’ve worked out how we can get the public to love us.
ANDY
Have you?
HARRY
Yes! I’ve worked out how we can become a national treasure.
ANDY
What is it?
HARRY
I’ve worked out-
ANDY
Yes, we know you’ve worked something out. What is it?
HARRY
We sleep together.
ANDY
You what?
HARRY
We sleep together.
ANDY
That’s what I thought you said. Listen boy, I don’t mind exploring new ideas, but I don’t see how going on an anal adventure is going to make us a great comedy double act.
HARRY
Don’t be so ridiculous! I don’t mean sleep together in a homosexual way; I mean as in literally sleep. Look at the greats: Laurel and Hardy, Morecambe and Wise. What do they have in common?
ANDY
Funnier material than us?
HARRY
They share a bed. And no-one thought they were gay. It made people think they had a strong bond. It made them loveable.
ANDY
I don’t think that’s the only reason why, but (PAUSE) go on, let’s give it a shot.
HARRY PUNCHES THE AIR WITH JOY AND RUNS OVER TO THE BED. HE LIFTS UP THE COVERS, BUT THEN REALISES THAT IT’S A TIGHT SQUEEZE BECAUSE IT’S A SINGLE BED.
HARRY
Either Morecambe and Wise had a bigger bed, or they were both midgets.
HARRY CLIMBS IN BUT THEY ARE VERY CLOSE AND THE EACH HAVE ONE LEG STUCK OUT OF THE SIDES.
HARRY
Are you gonna be hogging the covers all night or what?
ANDY
This is stupid!
HARRY
Alright, why don’t we go tops and tails?
ANDY
Good idea. Go on then.
HARRY
What why should I go? It was my idea!
ANDY
I need to be this way so I’m facing the camera. This face is keeping all the ladies tuned in. And let’s face it, we need all the viewers we can get.
HARRY
This isn’t working.
HARRY GETS OUT OF BED AND GOES OVER TO THE WINDOW. HE PULLS BACK THE CURTAIN. AN ICE CREAM VAN GOES PAST.
HARRY
He won’t get to the hospital very fast going at that speed! Eh? Eh?
ANDY
No. Just no. Go back to your room.
HARRY HEADS TOWARDS THE DOOR LOOKING DISGRUNTLED.
HARRY
I bet Matt Lucas would sleep with David Walliams if he asked.
Not my favourite, but seemed to get the best feedback.
Call Me Tony.
INT. OFFICE
Gordon Brown sits on a chair, staring blankly into the distance.
Across the way sits one of Gordon's Aids, who's on the phone finishing a conversation.
He turns his attention to Gordon.
AID
Mr. Prime Minister?
(No response)
Mr. Prime Minister?
(Still no response)
Oi, Gordon!
GORDON
Me?
AID
Yes, Mr. Prime Minister.
GORDON
Sorry, I'm still not used to that. What's up Aid?
AID
It's Tony, Mr. Prime Minister.
GORDON
No, it's Gordon, Tony left.
AID
No, my name is Tony.
GORDON
That must have been confusing?
AID
Only when he referred to himself in third person, sir.
GORDON
Gordon's often thought about doing that Tony.
AID
(Joking)
Tony doesn't think that's a very good idea, sir.
GORDON
(Concerned)
He doesn't?
AID
(Point to himself)
I meant this Tony, sir.
GORDON
(Relieved)
Oh right.
AID
Actually Mr. Prime Minister, I have Tony on the phone.
Gordon stares puzzled at the statement.
AID (Continued)
The other Tony, sir.
GORDON
Oh right.
AID
On line 1, sir.
GORDON
(Playful wink)
Gordon thanks you Tony.
The Aid transfers the call. Gordon picks up the phone.
GORDON
Hello Tony, you old dog.
(Laughs)
Hows the misses?
(Laughs)
So Tony, I was-
AID
(Interrupting)
Yes, sir?
GORDON
(To the Aid)
What?
AID
Sorry, I thought you meant me, sir.
GORDON
No the other one.
GORDON (CONTINUED)
(To the phone)
So Tony-
AID
(Interrupting)
Yes, sir?
GORDON
(To the Aid)
Oh, you've done it again.
AID
Sorry sir. You're right though, it is very confusing.
GORDON
It's okay, but if I say Tony again, I mean the other Tony.
AID
Of course sir, sorry again.
The aid busies himself with paperwork. A second Aid enters, bringing some files to the first Aid.
GORDON
(To the phone)
So Tony-
(Looks at the Aid, no response)
-I was just thinking. Maybe we should go out one night?
(Laughs)
Of course, bring the wives.
(Laughs)
When, I'll have to check my diary, just a moment.
(To the Aid)
Tony?
(No response)
Tony?
(Still no response)
Oi, Aid!
SECOND AID
Yes, Mr. Prime Minister?
GORDON
Sorry, who are you?
SECOND AID
I'm Adrian, your second Aid, Mr. Prime Minister.
GORDON
Sorry, I wanted Tony.
SECOND AID
I believe he's on line 1, Mr. Prime Minister.
GORDON
Sorry, I meant my First Aid.
SECOND AID
You want first aid, Mr. Prime Minister?
GORDON
I think so, yes?
SECOND AID
Gordon?
GORDON
Yes?
SECOND AID
(Point to the first Aid)
Sorry I meant him.
GORDON
But his name is Tony.
SECOND AID
I know but we called him Gordon so we wouldn't get confused.
GORDON
Why Gordon?
AID
Yes?
GORDON
Sorry, I was talking to Aide.
SECOND AID
It's because his name is Tony Gordon, sir.
GORDON
(To phone)
Oh, come back Tony.
END
Back to 21st Nov for this and has my writing improved since?.. Well I can answer in the affirmative with an emphatic 'no'.
OLD CLOWNS
INT.OLD FOLKS HOME. TWO RETIRED CLOWNS(ARTHUR AND BOB) TALK ABOUT OLD CIRCUS FRIENDS. BOB IS OCCASIONALLY HARD OF HEARING.
A. Whatever became of Midget Mike?
B. Dead.. I was one of the few normal sized people who paid my respects.. biggest collection of dwarves ever seen.. I even got a lift of his hamper.
A. His hamper?
B. Oh, Mike's temper was legendary.. he had a short,short fuse.
A. No, not temper.. hamper!
B. Oh, hamper.. yes he was buried in a hamper.. he was big for a dwarf. Tiny midgets have to make do with a picnic basket when they snuff it.
A. What about Bill?
B. Bill?
A. Yes, 'Wall of Death' Bill.
B. Bill's dead too.. died of a spoke in heart.
A. Go to his funeral, did you?
B. No, I sent a wreath. Bloody wreaths were ruined I heard. The mourners tried to toss them over his gravestone - hoopla style.
A. Bunch of clowns!
A. And Oswald?
B. Who's bald?
A. No, no.. Oswald, human cannonball Oswald?
B. Oh Oswald.. Dead.. buried at sea he was.
A. Was he a sailor?
B. No, whaler.. best harpooner around in his youth. Got blasted from his cannon one final time into the sea.
A. Awful shame.
B. You're right.. those helmets cost a fortune.
A. I take it Jack is dead?
B. Jack?
A. Yeah, Jack.. he did mime.
B. Oh yes, Jack.. Jack went into theatre.. i think he had a shout at panto.
A. Horse?
B. I would be surprised if he wasn't.. he smoked 50 a day.
A. No, pantomime horse.. not hoarse.
B. Well, he was a man of few words.
A. Where's he now then?
B. He's behind you!
ENDS.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0qAO3hWITOg
WHAT’S UP DOC
AMBULANCE, DOORS SLAM.
DOCTOR: So where’s the patient?
PATIENT: Doctor!
DOCTOR: Yes I’ve taken a look at your files and I’m afraid I have some bad news... You’re gonna pop yer cork.
PATIENT: I’m sorry?
DOCTOR: You heard. You’re f**ked.
PATIENT: Is there nothing you can…?
DOCTOR: No f**k all. Sorry and all that but life goes on…
PATIENT: Come back!
DOCTOR (SIGHS): Listen I’m a very busy man. I gotta private patient in the next ward and…
PATIENT: Is there no hope?
DOCTOR: Nope no hope. Best wishes for the future, only of course…
PATIENT: May I contact my family?
DOCTOR: If you like. But what the f**k can they do?
PATIENT: I - I wish to speak to your superior.
DOCTOR: If you like. But what the f**k can…?
DOOR OPENS, SUPERIOR ENTERS.
SUPERIOR: Doctor Thatcher I’ve told you about this. You’re not to tease the patients, we’re a respectable hospital.
DOCTOR (COWED): No Superior. Sorry Superior…
SUPERIOR: I’m sorry about him Sir. Young ’un, silly sense of humour…
PATIENT: That’s all right.
SUPERIOR: So, let me take a look at your files… Yer gonna pop yer cork.